


My Brother's Keeper

by Siberianskys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberianskys/pseuds/Siberianskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Son-of-a-bitch” he muttered, wincing as he watched Sam continue to dig his fingers into the wound on his left hand. Dean was sorry he’d ever sanctioned his brother using pain to stop the hallucinations, but at the time it seemed to be the expedient thing to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother's Keeper

After watching Sam out of the corner of his eye for the last mile and a half, Dean couldn’t help but check his rear view mirror to make sure his baby’s back seat was empty, even though he knew Satan wouldn’t actually be there. “Son-of-a-bitch” he muttered, wincing as he watched Sam continue to dig his fingers into the wound on his left hand. Dean was sorry he’d ever sanctioned his brother using pain to stop the hallucinations, but at the time it seemed to be the expedient thing to do. Now all he could do was try to think up creative ways to keep his brother from doing himself any more harm, so far he wasn’t having any luck. Reaching across the front seat, he rested his hand on the back of Sam’s neck. “Sammy,” Dean asked, “how about we pack it in for the night?” When he didn’t get an answer, Dean flicked Sam’s ear which earned him a dirty look. It was something, at least. Seeing the M symbol on the blue sign at the last minute, Dean swerved to enter the exit ramp.

“Dean,” Sam snapped, bracing himself against the dash.

Dean grinned as he ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Jerk,” Sam grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

Dean knew Sam expected him to respond with the time-honored “bitch”, but Dean just didn’t have it in him. He was too happy to have his brother behaving like his old self for however long it lasted.

“Panera,” Sam said, apparently ignoring the slight.

“What?”

“There’s a Panera Bread,” Sam said, pointing across the divided highway.

“Seriously?” Dean asked.

“I haven’t been there since--“

“Stanford,” Dean finished.

Sam nodded.

“Whatever blows up your skirt, Sammy,” Dean said, cutting across three lanes of traffic to a cacophony of blowing horns.

“Dean,” Sam said, exasperated, “You’re a menace.”

“You’re the one who wanted to eat here,” Dean said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green. Once inside Dean scowled at the menu board and pouted, “They don’t have pie?”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love it,” Sam said.

Dean was skeptical, but he’d have eaten straw if it made Sam this happy. He also noticed that Satan didn’t seem to be able to cut through his brother’s gleeful excitement. He filed that tidbit away for future reference. “Tell you what, you order for me and I’ll grab us a table.”

“You gonna tell me what you want?” Sam asked as Dean started to walk away.

“As long as it’s not rabbit food, just get me whatever’s good.”

“Everything’s good,” Sam said.

“Okay, whatever you think I’d think was good.”

Sam laughed.

Dean looked around and found a table off to the side as far away from other people as he could. He found their brand of crazy made the civilians a bit twitchy. He couldn’t help but watch Sam as his brother made his way to the counter. So far he seemed to be doing okay. Sam even smiled at the co-eds making eyes at him from a nearby table. Dean wondered when the other shoe was going to drop. Forcing his eyes away from Sam, he spread out the local paper. Even though they were on Leviathan duty, he always found himself going back to his old habits--checking their dad’s journal for anything about their current location and checking the local paper for anything wonky. He startled when Sam put the tray down with a thunk. “Leave anything for anyone else?” he asked, staring at the food laden tray.

“I couldn’t decide,” Sam mumbled.

“It was a joke.”

“Sorry.”

“Sit down and eat your soup before it gets cold,” Dean said, plucking a piece of chicken out of some sort of salad.

Sam chuckled. “You were always saying something like that to me when we were kids.”

“Never could figure out how you got so ginormous. I had a hell of time getting your nose out of a book long enough to get a meal into you.”

Sam frowned.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“You did everything when we were kids and I was ungrateful.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean reached for half of what looked like a roast beef sandwich. “Eat your dinner, Sammy.”

“Dean.”

“You were a kid.”

“That’s the point, so were you, but you didn’t have a chance. You didn’t even get to finish high school,” Sam said.

“Yeah, that was a huge loss to the academic world.”

“You never even think about it do you?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“What you could have been,” Sam said.

Dean groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You could have done anything, Dean; you just don’t seem to know it. Do you know what I remember? I remember coming home from my first day of junior high upset that I didn’t understand the algebra homework, because we started school two weeks late that year. You took dad’s wrath for being an hour late meeting him for a hunt, because you stayed to explain it to me.”

“Come on, it was 7th grade math, not like I was going to find the cure for cancer,” Dean said before realizing that Sam was staring off into space. Reaching across the table, Dean took Sam’s hand gently in his and called his name several times until his brother finally made eye contact.

“Damn,” Sam muttered, dropping his eyes.

“Eat your soup,” Dean said, picking at his sandwich while Sam just stared into his bowl.

“I thought maybe you could use boxes,” a young woman said quietly to Dean as she appeared at his elbow, her eyes drifting sadly over to Sam.

“Somebody complain?” Dean asked tightly, scanning the restaurant for disapproving stares.

“Not with the base this close, he just looks like he’s had enough for the evening. I recognize the look. My husband came back from Afghanistan with that look,” she whispered.

Dean met her eyes, surprised at the word husband. He didn’t think she looked old enough to be out of high school let alone be anyone’s wife. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the boxes and bag for the leftovers.

“If you need anything else, I’m Keri,” she said, leaving another smaller, but full bag on the table as she left.

Dean gently released Sam’s hand which earned him a puzzled look. “How about you go top off our cups and I’ll pack up the leftovers?”

“When did you get boxes?” Sam asked.

“You were a little distracted,” Dean said, watching as his brother got up from the table and headed toward the drink station. He quickly boxed up everything and put the boxes into the bag. Before putting the mystery bag that Keri left in with the rest of the food, he took a peek. While the contents didn’t rise to the level of pie, the mixture of cookies and pastry looked really good. He looked around the room until he found Keri. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

She just nodded and smiled shyly.

Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Taking out a $20, he dropped it on the table. It was the least he could do. It was rare for strangers to treat Sam with any sort of dignity these days. Meeting his brother at the door, he held it open and waited for him to go through. Once outside, he took one of the cups from Sam and then took his bad hand into a loose grip. Dean bit his lip and waited as Sam’s eyes dropped down to their joined hands before coming back up to meet Dean’s eyes with a tired and perplexed expression. It was going to be a long night, he thought.


End file.
